Great food, beautiful nature, wonderful people. But of course a music festival wouldn’t be complete without the music! There were so many good shows to choose from this year. The Cure brought back emotions I have repressed since my mid-teens. Chemical Brothers gave me flashbacks to a much different time in music (and made me want to watch The Matrix), Sia fought against the rain and gave one of the most artistic and inspiring performances of the festival. While the Green Stage is where all the big hitters swing, I have to admit I am partial to the smaller stages. With that in mind, here is my list of the top five shows of the festival, in no particular order.

1) GEZAN
I have been a fan of GEZAN for quite a few years, and tracking their rise and seeing them make it to the White Stage made me proud. Putting these personal sentiments aside, this show was also undeniably unique and engaging. It was one of the hardest-edged shows I saw over the course of the weekend, and my only personal spotting of crowd-surfing. It was also one of the most artistically creative and playful sets I saw, GEZAN being willing to do things on stage that other bands would question the sense in. And the crowd was absolutely into it, myself included. They are just a band that, on paper, shouldn’t work. But absolutely, 100% do.

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2) Shibusashirazu Orchestra
I have wanted to see them perform for years, but every time the chance came up it somehow slipped through my fingers. In a way, though, I am glad this was my first experience, because I don’t think I could have asked for a better one. Before the set I managed to grab a great craft beer and snap the coveted highest spot on the bamboo trellises at the back of the Field of Heaven area. I was all set to just sit back and take in the show. When the band hit the stage and started wailing, however, I knew I just watching this set wouldn’t be enough, I had to be a part of it. Within 30 seconds I had downed my beer, abandoned the perch and thrown myself head-first into the crowd. Boy was it worth it. Then partway through the set something special happened, that made me scream and pump my fist (and get some confused looks for it). Makigami Koichi, lead singer of the band Hikashu, joined the group. Now I am a really big Hikashu fan. Here is was, Makigami freaking Koichi and Shibusa freaking shirazu. It was an amazingly weird and engaging and inclusive set, and it was well worth the years of waiting.

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3) Mitski
To be honest, before the festival I wasn’t too familiar with Mitski. I had heard a few tracks, and I did a little research into her. I liked her songs, I thought her lyrics were witty and endearing. I wasn’t expecting the show I was treated to, though. I have seen few performers in my life be able to control the stage the way she did. Every move seemed deliberate without seeming over-rehearsed. She performed like a burlesque dancer with a degree in semiotics, and did it to great effect. If the rumors are true, this may have been one of the last chances to see her perform live. I just hope you were as lucky as me to have seen it while you had the chance.

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4) Susumu Hirasawa + EJIN
I have always been a fan of P-Model. Actually let me clarify, I have always been a fan of early P-Model, when they were a weird new-wavey post-punky kind of group. In all honesty I kind of lose interest when their catalog starts getting more electronic, and I never really listed to any of Hirasawa-san’s solo work. Now I think I need to go back and reappraise a lot of his music, because this performance was jaw-dropping. Susumu-san has the kind of charisma only a veteran real like him can have, and he really knew how to perform like a mad-professor in a musical laboratory. He basically strummed lasers as his primary instrument, for the love of pete. Add to that EJIN, the birds of death in white suspenders flanking him, to really set the theatrical mood. Then have one of them use a Tesla coil as an instrument. I honestly have never seen a show quite like it, and if you weren’t there than neither have you.

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5 The Buskers!
I must admit, I am a big fan of the busking crew that comes to Fuji Rock. Their leader has been a staple at the event for 20 years, and the retinue he brings with him is diverse. I think one of the things that appeals to me the most is the busking model itself. Basically if you like it, you pay. If you don’t, you don’t. If it rains and they can’t perform, they don’t get paid. This is much different than most of the performers on the stages, who have their contracts all worked out regardless of how things go. It might sound like I am focusing on the money here, but I’m actually more interested in how it informs the art. These performers need to learn how to be individual, engaging and charming in a unique way. Their paycheck depends on it, it leads to some truly interesting art, and the festival would feel a lot more bland without it. While magician Masato Moja, one-man-band EPPAI and avant-garde mime Kano Mami may be my personal favorites, each of the 11 performers who came to the festival this year added to the flavor of the fest in crucial ways.

While I may be happy right now to have taken a shower, eaten some vegetables and taken a nap on a real mattress, I can’t help but wish the weekend could have gone on forever. If I didn’t see you there this year, I’ll be sure to in the next.

Now… take a guy with a pedigree like this, who happens to also look like a mad scientist, and put him on stage behind an arachnoid synth rack with Star Trek: The Next Generation green laser light rigs which are somehow an optical instrument I have never heard of. Also flank him with dual guitar players (SSHO and TAZZ) in white plague-era bird masks and have them perform what can be best described as electronic pop opera. Do you want more?

When he brings out his own guitar the show really moves, an almost Japanese industrial sound from a bygone era. This is cool. And inspiring. And absolutely packing the Red Marquee. Hirasawa’s singing is high and trilling, operatic and theatrical. Hell, the whole thing is pretty theatrical.

It was a theater the crowd knew by heart. They knew where and when to clap, they knew the big beats by heart. Eating it up is an understatement. The crowd was going wild for this weird show. And for good reason.

Beyond the theatricality, the music itself had a heavy pulsing electronic beat deep enough to shake the floor, but also solid and accessible song structure, melody and movement to separate it from a typical ‘electronic’ show. Guitars knew when to be there and when not to, and more importantly how to be there when they were. Harmonies when harmonies fit, rhythm guitar when it fit, shredding when it fit. The songs fit together like beautiful jagged puzzle pieces. And Hirasawa has been around long enough and experimented musically enough to know how to do them all together. In fact it sounded a little bit like Sparks at their most conceptual at moments…

Speaking of Sparks, remember earlier when I asked if you wanted more? How about a Tesla coil? Yeah, as if at this point the diabolical villain in a science fiction film vibe wasn’t enough, halfway through the set a Tesla coil erupted in a sea of controlled musical lightning bolts, manipulated through an ‘instrument weilded by one of Enin’s plague birds’. If you are going to put on a show, do it with lasers and lightning bolts.

This was by far the most unpredictably well received and weird show I experienced over the weekend. My goodness it was good.

The second track is shorter and more thunderous, and reaps equally rallied cheers. One of Chon’s members says, “Sugoi (Great) we’re Chon from San Diego, and we’re going to play some more”. As the overhead flood lights shift to hard pinks and blues, the ridiculously complicated riffing bears similarities to The Fall of Troy here, and to guitar heroes like Steve Vai in other places. Once again a song ends, and more applause breaks out like wildfire.

In a splash of cymbals, Chon are off performing their third track, as the back of the stage is suddenly lit up with two burst of blue. For the next song, the band riffs out under a white haze, accented by white overhead floodlights. There is next to no pause in between songs, and no speaking. Almost before your humble author knows one song is ending, Chon is already launching into its next track. This is truly a band that is all about the music – more than almost any other band I have ever seen. And, perhaps it’s because they know their fans feel the same.

Ten minutes and a handful of songs into their set, Chon pauses for a full ten seconds and lets the applause ring out, before diving into their next song; this one being very much like The Fall of Troy – with virtuoso guitars and furious time signatures – but with next to no aggression. Another point of dissimilarity is that there are no vocals; Chon is almost completely an instrumental band. Towards the front of stage right, a handful of dedicated fans wave both hands in the air towards Chon, punctuating each point of musical punctuation, in veneration.

Once this latest song comes to a close, one of Chon’s members quickly and humbly states, “We’re Chon. Thank you very much.” During their next number, six flood lights burn orange at the back of the stage – like burning suns – and light up the tops of the heads in the crowd; as if the audience members are having the time of their lives. The ensuing applause proves that they are.

One loses track of how many songs Chon performs. Perhaps only a dedicated fan would know for sure. However, any die-hard music fan would know that the number of songs doesn’t matter. What matters is musicianship, writing skills, and the ability to give an audience what it wants. All of the above, Chon have in spades. At this point the six flood lights at the back of the stage burn pink and sway violently from side to side, as if searching for a criminal. Once again, another song draws to a close and another one starts; like the endless symphony of life. The screen that covers the entirety of the back of the stage is now pure black behind the white Chon logo, and two large overhead flood lights burn in an orange hue, while a number of smaller ones in between act like white rays of divine light from Heaven. Chon continues to jam out, as if telling the story of a valiant hero defying all odds. Looking back over my shoulder, the crowd flows back past the limits of the tent, enough to easily fill another respectable venue.

Twenty-three minutes into their set, Chon starts a number that is more laid back and contemplative than most of the music they have played so far. Many audience members sway from side to side in a manner that suggests that they might have done this at home as well, and are grateful for a chance to do it while the band performs live in front of them. One young woman in pigtails and a white t-shirt dances with her eyes closed and her fists clenched over her head. As the latest song comes to an end, she smiles from ear to ear, as if recalling a cherished memory. This band holds a massive power over the grateful thousands in attendance here tonight. The aforementioned pigtailed girl grooves even harder and more slowly as Chon dishes out a slow ponderous number reminiscent of early Death Cab for Cutie. As they finish that particular track, in a flash they are flying headlong into another song, as a smoky pink background is punctuated by fiercely searching blue beams from above.

Forty-one minutes into their set, as their latest track pulls to a halt, one of Chon’s members states, “This has been so sick! We hope you have enjoyed it. We sure have. We have a few more songs. This next one is called ‘Pitch Dark,’ and it’s kind of scary.” And, off they go. A woman towards the back of the hall climbs on someone’s shoulders to get a better view, but her enabler cannot support her, so she goes back down. A young man in a black t-shirt in front of the sound desk jumps up and down with both fists in the air, as if witnessing a personal friend’s great triumph. A young woman to the left of the sound booth – also in a black t-shirt – holds her boyfriend’s arms around her body, and shakes them with glee.

In a rare second of silence, one of Chon’s members announces, “The before-last song is a singing one,” and he invites the crowd to sing along; if they know it. Before their very last song, in a two-second pause, one of the musicians quickly interjects, “Arigatou, Fuji Rock,” and Chon is off again in a flurry of guitars, bass and drums. The last song has different points in the instrumental chorus where the audience is seemingly supposed to yell “Hey!”. About half of the attendees oblige, many of them jumping into the air with both fists as they do. As the last song comes to a thumping halt, the audience cheers as loudly as if they had witnessed the Beatles or The Rolling Stones in their heyday; such is the loyalty that Chon inspires. The crowd seems to want to ask for an encore, but they know they will not get one. Instead, they are treated to a thirty-second promo video of the band’s current tour. As this also comes to a sudden close, it garners as much cheering as if it were one of Chon’s most beloved songs. Contentedly, their fans then file dutifully out of the hall.

American Football took the stage in a downpour that looked like it was created for a movie; especially lit up as it was by the overhead stage rigs. Hundreds of rapt fans stood attentively waiting, as the band tuned their instruments onstage; possibly fighting the humidity to little avail. Towards the end of the sound check, their lead singer started singing “raindrops keep falling on my head,” and, as if by magic, it started raining even harder. The band then left the stage for a few minutes before their official start time. At exactly 8 p.m. the crowd started to cry out like banshees, but nothing happened. Then, the lights dimmed, and the crowd went crazy again, as a 16th note rhythm of glockenspiel music came over the PA. The stage-side screen revealed it to be played live. Then, a quick hi-hat rhythm started to accompany it, like a crowd clapping for more. A swelling of guitar notes became audible, and then the kick drum kicked in. Following the entry of the drums, American Football’s trademark syncopated single-coil guitar sound rang out, and the crowd went wild as the vocalist’s voice made itself heard. It must have been a newer composition, because there were strings and there was more of a cinematic sound than they possessed in their early years.

Electronic twiddly bits filled the air after the first song ended, along with ambient horns fading in and out, like an indie-rock version of some instrumental passages from Music for the Masses-era Depeche Mode. Suddenly the second song started with a syncopated kick drum patterns to match their trademark guitar licks. The classic longing of this band is conveyed in the lyrics “stuck on yesterday”. Gentle female backing vocals complimented the lead singer’s languorous voice well, and the song ended in a long instrumental passage which would be perfect for the soundtrack of a movie about shattered love. It’s no surprise that they were placed on the same stage as – and right before – Death Cab for Cutie. They both carry the same melancholy, seemingly proprietary to the rainy regions of the Left Coast. This latest song in their set evolved into a polyrhythm of the chiming guitar picking against a counter rhythm on the kick drum. Very progressive. The rain continued to mercilessly pelt the crowd like animals in a rain forest. Suddenly, the current song ended, and the audience hooted and hollered its appreciation. The lead singer said, “Hi, we’re American Football, and we’re so grateful to be invited here, to share this moment with you, on this beautiful day.” No one laughed. American humor.

As a collection of yellow stars made out of light beams danced over their heads, American Football performed a song on the happier side of their nature. And, in a flash, things got more aggressive (yet still happy) and the crowd roared with its own wave of happiness. In a sense, this band are heroes to thousands of Japanese people because of their shoe-gazer nature; it’s brooding and anthemic, and concentrates on creating something beautiful without seeking to glorify itself. The song then died down to a rattling of glockenspiel.

The next song started off with a gentle trumpet solo which turned out to be an instrumental. The drummer then struck a gentle rhythm on a hand drum and, as the guitars kicked in, the crowd erupted into cheers. It seemed like an instrumental of hand drum, guitar and trumpet, but then a gentle vocal came through, singing “thinking about how I should say goodbye”. The bass and the kick drum then jumped into the mix. The crowd cheered wildly at the end of this song, but their enthusiasm was dampened by the sudden start of the heaviest downpour Fuji Rock 2019 had seen so far.

Fuchsia and white lighting danced over the band as a song about father issues commenced, with American Football’s vocalist crooning “Now as a father, I blame the booze.” Beautiful female backing vocals and glockenspiel counterpointed the percussion of the rain. This song ended, and then another started, with chiming 16th note picking on a Telecaster; with counterpoint being played on another single-coil axe, to angelic effect. After about five minutes of intro, the drums and the bass came in, with a triumphantly homecoming feel.

The before-last song started with a 6/8 pattern on the high hat, and a 3/4 pattern on guitar, accompanied by gentle glockenspiel punctuation. After a few minutes of intro, the drums came in kicking heavily on the kick and snare; as if there were a passive-aggressive point to be made. The song then broke down to a chime-y 6/8 pattern on the guitars; as they supported the vocals, before the drums came back in with a vengeance. An outro of funky bass, drums and glockenspiel then riffed out before the song suddenly ended.

Once that track drew to a close, the lead singer gently stated “We’re just going to play one more song. Thank you for being here!”, before launching into “Never Meant” from their eponymous debut album released in 1999; perhaps their first indie hit. It sounded as fresh as when it came out twenty years ago. The crowd went wild as if they were watching global superstars, when the first guitar breakdown came around. As the last strains of clean guitar died out, the crowd applauded enthusiastically, and the band left the stage with a simple and gentle “Thank you very much”.

Skirt is, of course, a band. And quite a good one at that! However, vocalist and guitarist Wataru Sawabe is undeniably the star of the show. His performance style has a kind of earnesty and authenticity that can’t be faked. It also helps that his songs are extremely catchy.

The band started their set by rollicking from one uptempo conga drum fueled banger to the next, fast and guitar-driven but not hard. By the time he got to their popular track Seven Star the tempo was breakneck, like the band was racing against itself. Woke up the crowd like a shot of espresso.

After this, Watanabe switched to an acoustic guitar and the tempo relaxed a bit, but kept the crowd tapping their toes and bobbing their heads.

After a few heartfelt little emotional jams back on the electric guitar, it was time once again to get people moving. The pop went down, and the funk went up with Watanabe showing his range as a songwriter and musician on his song Kaisou

When Skirt exited the stage they left behind them a lingering sense of both nostalgia and emotional optimism, perhaps the best blend of emotions to carry into a Fuji Rock Sunday.

As the song ends, Ben Gibbard yells “Konnichi wa! We’re Death Cab for Cutie from Seattle, Washington!” and the crowd cheers in a surprisingly American fashion. Their second song of the evening seems very “21st Century” , with a hint of the 80’s; in a distorted lead that echoes a hit by the Power Station. Bassist Nick Harmer is also playing with a more electronic tone than ever before ; perhaps akin to New Order’s Peter Hook. Ben Gibbard sings “I don’t know why. I don’t know why.”

The third song is started with a four-four pattern on the hi-hat, and the crowd claps along enthusiastically in unison before the bass jumps in; followed by a dreamy reverb-heavy guitar. Death Cab for Cutie deliver “Long Division” from their album Narrow Stairs, with Ben Gibbard crooning, “The television is snowing softly”. The projection mapping at the back of the screen flows downward like a fountain of gold. As the song comes to an end, Ben Gibbard cries out, “Thank you so much!” And, once again, the audience hollers as if they were from the U.S.

Two songs later, Death Cab for Cutie suddenly leap straight into their recent single “Gold Rush,” which is embraced warmly by the audience. It’s good to hear Ben Gibbard sing in such a relatively happy voice. Towers of fuchsia light explode on stage at different points during the chorus and Ben Gibbard dances around merrily with his guitar, as the song draws to a close. The crowd quickly cheers, and then quiets down, as Death Cab once again flashes back to their 2008 album Narrow Stairs; jumping into “I Will Possess Your Heart”. As Ben Gibbard sings “I could build you a home in my heart”, shapes like the components of an impressionistic painting dance on the LED screen behind the band. All members of Death Cab for Cutie being decked out in black tonight, seems to accent the fact that they are all about the music now; in case there was any doubt before. The crowd roars like a stadium audience as this song comes to an end as well.

Three songs later, Ben gently states, “arigatou gozaimasu !” before strapping on an acoustic guitar and performing “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” solo. The audience cheers wildly at his first vocal break, throwing him off guard for a second. During this song – about following a lover into death – the pouring rain returns to pelt the crowd mercilessly. As the song ends, the crowd cheers louder than ever.

There’s a slight dip in the vibe, however, as the band performs “Black Sun” (from their 2015 album “Kintsugi”) despite it being a brilliant composition. Perhaps it’s because of the rain. Perhaps it’s due to the fatigue of the crowd; as the crazy downpour shows no sign of letting up. Ben Gibbard runs over to bassist Nick Harmer in order to work up some energy during the intro of the next song.

As two more songs draw to a close, Mr. Gibbard says “Thank you! Sing along to this if you know it!”, and Death Cab for Cutie dives into “Soul Meets Body”. As pillars of flesh-colored light stand in front of an LED display resembling ocean currents of blood flow, Ben Gibbard’s vocals bring home an epiphany that Death Cab for Cutie has indeed become a world-class pop band. The audience cheers wildly as the before-last song ends. Mr. Gibbard then gently states “arigatou gozaimasu! Goodbye!” as the piano strains of the last song’s intro starts. While the band performs “Transatlanticism” from the 2003 album of the same name, projection mapping on the LED screen flows in blues, greens and purples, like the ocean itself. Overhead lights burn bright blue, as Ben Gibbard and a second guitarist riff in a chiming fashion; like the old-school version of this band, but with a more forward-moving, and – dare I say – a more positive or optimistic spirit. They bring the chorus back in (“I need you so much closer”) over and over again, then vamp on the chord progression of the song’s ending as the drums get louder and louder. As the last song suddenly ends, the pillars of light burn white against a background of blue, green and purple static. The crowd cheers wildly as the music dies out, and they won’t give up. Despite the ridiculous downpour of rain, they’re demanding an encore. The White Stage’s MC then walks up to Ben Gibbard’s microphone to announce that there will be no encore, and encourages everyone to get home safely.